


The End

by keikei



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Apocalypse, Doomed Timelines, Gen, Memory Alteration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4609758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keikei/pseuds/keikei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rose Lalonde wakes up and finds things are amiss.</p><p>A very short one-shot thing that I did upon request.</p><p>Apologies for any formatting mistakes, this was copied over from elsewhere and is my first time working with this site.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The End

Emerging from the nothingness that clouds my being comes a barely perceptible fuzz. It is a harsh, inaudible noise - a speck of light in unknowable distance, teasing me, urging me to come forward. I find myself feeling pleasant and comfortable amid the murk of my deep subconscious, and I harbour no desire to leave. There is a certain relief that comes with being aware of a complete lack of anything. Alas, it seems that my time amongst myself may soon be drawing to a close. The noise draws nearer, stinging and blinding and making me feel _aware_ once more. Other senses soon come flooding back - I have become dimly aware of the sound of nearby drizzle, of a salty breeze, and of fingers and toes pushing down into the earth below. I know that in but a second in reality, I will return to the conscious, and the subconscious will have returned to its rightful backseat. Try as I might to resist, an awakening is now inevitable.

A miasmic barrage of the sensory hits me. My body lays still for a moment as the mind begins to register everything, suddenly gaining my vision - I look skyward. My hands dig into what feels like sand beneath and I realize I am lying down. I don’t yet know why, but there is a sharp, burning pain across my back and arms. As my body finished calibrating itself, I am able to bring myself back up and analyze my situation. From what I can deduce, it seems that I was pushed back, very suddenly and with great force. This assumption comes from the rather long stretch of land I seem to have been dragged across - the sand I sit in and immediately in front of me is smoothed, and there is a hemisphere where my head lay. There is no evidence apparent that explains _why_ I have found myself in this position, though. I turn around to find myself upon a shore, water gently lapping up towards me. Small clusters of clouds deposit rainwater into the vast ocean below. 

The scenery is tranquil, but odd. I know not why I have ended up here, but it seems prudent to put together what I can remember. Perhaps I’ll come to a conclusion from there. I begin to pace, bare feet grinding against the grains below, going through an analysis of myself. A name comes to mind - Rose Lalonde. There is at least some comfort in that I can remember that much. Now, Rose, what brings you upon this fantastical beach? It’s certainly nowhere near the forests of my home. For one, there’s actually colour. Vividly so - the sea is a wonderfully bright cyan. Slicks of pink and yellow can be seen, too. I would assume this is oil, but again, I’ve never seen oil quite so... fluorescent. The clouds, too, disturb me. They are far too low and frequent to be considered natural, and have a sickly off-yellow tinge to them. The rainwater they spill seems never-ending. I ask myself again, _why am I here?_

No answers will come from inaction, though. Turning away from the unending waters, I begin to ascend a small hill. Rushing water can be heard in the distance, stronger than the like in my home. The sun beats down upon my back as I climb, serving only to enunciate its already ragged state. Making it to the peak of the hill, my confusion only deepens. Not thirty feet away from me _is_ my own home, looking as if it was always beach-side property. Furthermore, there seems to have been some... ‘work’ done. Colorful water comes cascading down from the sky, running in aqueducts downhill, under the house, and down a cliff in pastel waterfalls. I am no longer hidden amidst a forest at all - quite the opposite. I seem to have found myself on an island in the middle of the ocean. I crack a slight smirk and manage to stifle a chuckle of realization - an obvious realization at that. A dream. I’d recently been introduced to the concept of lucid dreaming, and managed to have a few semi-successful goes at it. With this knowledge in mind, I decide it’s time to force a few changes. For one, getting rid of this garish colour scheme. It is time to get comfortable.

But nothing changes. I try, oh, do I try, but this imaginarium seems intent on staying just as it is. Minutes pass, and the sheer colour of it all begins to sting. Flickers of annoyance pass through me. Beyond being a dream, this all seems rather implausible. Perhaps I ingested some sort of hallucinogen? Unlikely, but any explanation would be nice.

I look up. In my fervor, whatever is happening up there has managed to elude my gaze. For one, there doesn’t appear to even be a sun. Instead, there is a great blue orb, barely visible against the blue of my own skies. I only deigned to look up, though, because of the comets, the likes of which seem to be whizzing past at a rather alarming pace. None of them seem bent on hitting anywhere near me - instead, I believe they are hurtling towards the aforementioned ‘great blue orb.’ This would all be rather fascinating had I been reading about it, or perhaps seeing it in a dream, but the longer I stay here - as maddening as it is to admit - the realer this all feels. The sand feels so... natural. The exterior of my home, perfectly replicated. The faint breeze, pleasantly apparent. 

And if it is the case that this is my reality, well, so be it. My life could do with a bit of a kick-start into a new experience. It got simply _dreary_ having the same (passive) battles with my mother day in and day out. This can only be a good thing!

Hm. Mother. One has to wonder. I start my approach to my home, coming to a river of the colorful water, one that ends in a second, smaller waterfall. Kneeling down, I look for my reflection in the water. It finds me - at least, partially, in the blue. I look somewhat unkempt. Darkened, reddish eyes, almost as if they’ve been under duress. I would cite sleeplessness, but... hm. I almost want to say it looks like there have been tears recently.

It takes a bit of effort, but I manage to leap over the flow, touching down on the stone porch. Rounding a corner, I find the front door already slightly ajar. The breeze ushers it open ever so slightly. Due to the boundless luminescence of the great blue orb - I think I shall call it Grebo for shorthand - the interior is lit up far more than usual. Seeing it in such brightness is disconcerting. Unnatural. There is a distinct lack of giant stone wizard. This place feels like a separate entity entirely from my own home. The breeze picks up, practically announcing the desolace of this place.

As I poke around the rooms, I find that my suspicions did not go unfounded. My mother - nor anyone else - can be found anywhere. What I _do_ find peppered throughout the house are a number of strange, arcane devices. They have cranks. Wheels. Buttons. Hitting them does nothing. In the observatory, comets continue to fly by - they seem to be increasing in number. It’s all rather odd, though at this point I have grown accustomed to odd. It has ceased to have meaning. 

My last destination is my own room. Glass is shattered all around and my bed is missing, replaced by one of these devices. I note this as a slight inconvenience. Placing this in the ‘deal with later’ pile, I move to my desk, where my laptop lays. To its side are a couple of sheets of paper, printed with a logo and a code for ‘Sburb’. This was a game I was rather excited to play, I recall. Did I ever get around to playing it? If I did, it must not have left much of a lasting impression. Shame. The vicious cycle of hype drives again.

But Sburb is not what I need to focus on at the present. Such an odd situation begets explanation. Perhaps any one of my odd compatriots can provide answers. Perhaps not. Whatever the result, it seems terribly isolated here. Some socialization would do good.

As I open the chat client, however, it is not my friends, but someone deep in the bowels of the trollslum that has decided to open a dialogue. Their kind have a tendency to amuse, and finding the current situation deeply unfunny, I decide it worth the grey matter to read this one’s most recent nonsensical spiel.

 

****

**\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling tentacleTherapist [TT]--**

****

****

**CC: LALONDE**  
**CC: WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO YOURSELF**  
**CC: FUCK IT’S NOT LIKE IT MATTERS ANYMORE**  
**CC: EVERYONE IS FUCKING DEAD ANYWAY**  
**CC: FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKAHHHH**  
**CC: WHY DO I HAVE TO BE IN THE SHITTY FUCKING DOOMED TIMELINE**  
**CC: IT’S TERRIFYING**  
**CC: COMPLETELY SO**  
**CC: FUCK**

**\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling tentacleTherapist [TT]--**

Hm. That wasn’t amusing in the slightest. If anything, my head hurts more now. Usually they at least try and throw some technobabble or temporal shenanigans at me. Outright stating ‘everyone is dead’ feels like cheating. Now, ‘doomed timeline’, that’s more up to their usual snuff. It still seems awful blunt, though. Tiresome. _Boring._

What pricks at my mind the most, though, are those first two lines. It seems too correct, too timely to put down to sheer coincidence. Either he was extraordinarily timely with his trolling attempt, or... Sir carcino is somehow aware of my very recent tumble. This is troubling. The gaps in my memory are too significant to be ignored. _Something_ has clearly happened. And if those down in the slum are aware of it, why wouldn’t my circle of friends be? It is time to make some inquiries.

Or not. They are all offline. I do, however, note that my last exchange was with one Dave Strider. Glancing at the current time, then to that of this conversation, I see that it took place but two hours ago. I can’t have been lying in the sand for that long, then. Go on, then, Mr. Strider. Enlighten me.

 

 **\--turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 12:13--**  
**TG: uh hey rose**  
**TG: i ain’t gonna fluff this shit up**  
**TG: it’s pretty much over**  
**TG: i’m done  
** **TG: and unless you can solo this shit well**

Further reading is suddenly disrupted. Any answers I may have been about to gleam fade to black. A rumble of cataclysmic proportions shakes everything around me. My chair falls back, and with it, me. Parts of my body meet with glass, though in the dim of bewilderment I feel no pain. The warm breeze that previously accompanied me suddenly fades, and I am left in bitter cold. Light fades away, and I am left in utter darkness. I pick myself up - piercing one of my feet in the process - and think. I stare out into the direction I believe my window to be, and I discover what seems to be the source of this... disturbance. Grebo is gone. And with it, light, and warmth.

I huddle down and contemplate. The cold encroaches upon me, and I am hit with the sudden clarity that I have little time left. The realization is... startling, but shockingly, not frightening. I suppose I have a knack for acceptance. That, and the complete befuddlement as to what has actually occurred leaves me somewhat unfazed. Maybe this all really is a particularly vivid dream. Soon the fuzz around me will fade, and nothingness will cloud my very being. I will let it take me gently, and I will swim away without resistance.


End file.
